The doctor said I can get off the medication if I lose 25 pounds. There's not so much wrong with the medication; it keeps at bay the high blood pressure —  our nation's ongoing gift to African-American men. Only the meds barely perceptibly take the edge off my sexual fastball — if you know what I mean.

Next visit, when she saw that I'd dropped nine pounds in the six transpiring weeks, my doctor knew that I was serious about this mission.

Predictably, that's when the boredom set in. Dropping 25 pounds calls for a focus and routine that are at odds with the human need for variety and excitement. It's difficult when there are so many parties on the L.A. agenda to bypass the brewskis, appetizers, desserts, and delightfully fatty foods. Only a bore can stuff salad down their throat night after night. And on the exercise end of things, a gym can be a place of repetition and half-assed pursuit of numbers and meaningless goals. Abstract gains with the barbells and on the treadmills don't light my fire. They don't offer that motivation to work hard.

I needed a reason. And that's where the notion of acting like a kid again began to seem the most hopeful way.

This weekend my younger son had me playing catch, just a simple game that takes any guy back. These days are the summer sports doldrums, when there's little organized sport to obsess about if your baseball team is on the outs. Instead, I had a strong epiphany while backhanding an errant throw with a worn and inappropriate softball mitt.

Wyatt's toss brought to mind an evening from this past spring. While coaching my older boy's Little League team, I decided to pursue a dream.

I played shallow right field for a couple of rehearsal innings. One of my assistant coaches, a fit Mexican dad 10 years my junior, covered the left side of the infield. His kid had been on first when the batter laced a looping line drive just inside the first base line, a fair ball rolling past the foul line. The coach's son had been running with the pitch. He was rounding second base by the time I got to the baseball. My momentum was carrying me away from fair territory.

Then, to the surprise of every member of my Green Goblins squad, the coaches, the Team Mom, and especially myself, I barehanded the ball just below the light standard, whirled, and fired a one-bounce strike across the field to my coach at third base. He laid the tag on his hotshot son as the boy slid into the bag.

"You're out!" Charlene, the Team Mom, shouted.

And the Green Goblins went wild. It was amazing, one of my best athletic moments in the past dozen or so years.

It would suck so majorly to have no more meaningful athletic moments, to just have those stupid reps at Bally's and flirtatious looks from female gym rats dictate my success in sports. I wanted to do something real.

So, I sent an email to Jack Provost, Los Angeles commissioner of the Men's Senior Baseball League. Gimme a tryout next spring, I asked.

If I can find a place in the MSBL's 35-and-over division, I believe, my exercise regimen will find its purpose. Maybe it's just me, but getting fit simply lacks meaning without the threat of getting hit in the face by an 85-mile-per-hour fastball.

I was never very good at the Grand Old Game. My arm is above average and I run pretty well, but in my youth I was more interested in partying and watching television to develop as a player. Constancy's the key to baseball and my track record shows a distinct lack of that. To compete in the MSBL without humiliating myself — according to the website, this is pretty serious ball — I'll need to do more than pump iron and tool around L.A. on a desperate-looking bike.

To improve my on-field focus, I'll add yoga to the equation. That should improve my flexibility, too. The "gimme" component will be the work with my two sons. Once a month we'll hit at the batting cages. Playing catch is a no-brainer. That's what got me into this deal.

Those 25 pounds are toast. By spring I'll walk the Earth in the best shape of my life and be the ballplayer of my boyhood dreams. Just watch, it will be fun.